


Of Dinner Parties and Rivalries

by seonghwazz



Series: Seongjoong :) [2]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Dinner Parties, Gayness, M/M, Music Saves the Day, basically joong is a brat, gelled hair hwa and joong, hwa tolerates him but, rich au no one asked for, rich!hwa, rich!joong, suits from very good, they hate each other, unsupportive parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:26:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24250540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seonghwazz/pseuds/seonghwazz
Summary: "He’s always hated having to go to dinner parties at Mrs. Kim’s house. Not that the food was bad. It was because a very specific redheaded boy always made his life a living hell when he was there.A certain Kim Hongjoong, to be exact."ORSeonghwa and Hongjoong hate each other. Something changes when music is added to the mix.
Relationships: Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Series: Seongjoong :) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1837693
Comments: 6
Kudos: 96





	Of Dinner Parties and Rivalries

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! It is I, the frenchiest fry (haha jk it's seonghwazz!)  
> I'm back with another fic!
> 
> If you would like to request anything, feel free to do so in the comments. I don't bite hehe
> 
> (P.S the suits Hwa and Joong are wearing are the ones from the K-Con Very Good performance :D Enjoy!)

**Of Dinner Parties and Rivalries**

“Seonghwa honey, stop scowling!”, his mother scolded. “You’re going to disgrace me in front of Mrs. Kim. And I thought you liked hanging out with Hongjoong. Aren’t you two the best of friends?”

Seonghwa rolled his eyes, cramming his hands into the pockets of his dark-blue slacks. He wants to tell his mother that he is _ANYTHING_ from friends with Hongjoong. “Yeah, yeah, we are, fine.” He’s always hated having to go to dinner parties at Mrs. Kim’s house. Not that the food was bad. It was because a very specific redheaded boy always made his life a living hell when he was there.

A certain Kim Hongjoong, to be exact.

“Don’t use that attitude with me, young man”, his mother warned. Seonghwa scoffed but did as he was told. An angry version of Mrs. Park was not a fun Mrs. Park to deal with.

“Son, Seonghwa. You look fairly dashing with your hair gelled like that”, Mr. Park announced, as he stepped into the living room. Mrs. Park smiled proudly, dusting off Seonghwa’s velvet suit.

“Thank you”, Seonghwa muttered. He had not wanted to answer his father, but not responding to your elders was a big no-no. In the Park household, at least.

The Park family’s butler came over. “Sirs, Ma’am, the limousine is ready. Please feel free to leave whenever you wish, but the chauffeur tells me to remind you all that traffic is not the best outside.”

Mr. Park nods once, in that brisk way that all businessmen did. “Thank you, Geonhak. We will be leaving now. Ready, darling?”, he asks, Mrs. Park smiling dearly. She’s wearing a black off-the-shoulder dress, paired with a pair of black heels and a black Chanel bag. Seonghwa never really understood why his mother was so keen on flashing all of her most expensive clothing items and accessories to Mrs. Kim; was it to spark jealousy? He was never going to get it.

Seonghwa, however, hates it when he has to dress like this, in a fancy suit and loafers. It’s like he’s trying to impress someone; but who is there to impress? He lives for himself, not for what other people think of him.

“Come along, then.” Seonghwa trails after his parents, slouching and grumbling in a very non-Park way. “Don’t slouch”, his mother hisses, and Seonghwa immediately straightens.

The ride to the Kim residence is mostly quiet, the only exceptions being the soft jazz music playing and the honking of cars outside. Seonghwa is listening to an ASMR podcast, closing his eyes to savor the tingling feeling he gets whenever he listens to these things. 

They arrived far too quickly, much too quickly for Seonghwa’s liking. He’s not ready to deal with a bratty, standoffish Hongjoong, who brags about Kim Manor like it’s his instead of his parents. Not ready to have to pretend that he likes the redhead.

“Don’t slouch, scowl, or do anything that’s going to disgrace us”, Mrs. Park instructed. “Na-ra and I are going to be discussing university options for the two of you.” Mr. Park nodded in agreement. “Yes. Beomseok has always wanted his son to get into one of the SKY universities.”

_University options?_ , Seonghwa thinks. _We’re only fifteen!_

He keeps his mouth shut, though, and nods once, stiffly. Mr. Park smiles and makes his way towards the front door, ringing the doorbell once. Mrs. Kim opens the door, her smile stretching from ear to ear.

“Na-ra!”, Seonghwa’s mother exclaims, hugging her close friend tightly. “How I’ve missed you! It’s been a _WEEK_ since I last saw you”, she lamented. Seonghwa swore that he saw his father subtly roll his eyes, but he wasn’t sure. Since when had his father become so disrespectful?

“Oh my. Seonghwa, I haven’t seen you in a while. You’ve grown an inch!”, Mrs. Kim fawns. “Come right inside. Hongjoong’s waiting for you in his room.” Seonghwa takes a deep breath, plasters on a fake smile that he’s practiced just for occasions like this, and heads inside, following Mrs. Kim and his mother like a lost puppy even though he’s been in this house enough times to know his way around with his eyes closed.

The two women are chatting enthusiastically, sharing gossip, and laughing. Mrs. Kim knocks sharply on Hongjoong’s door once, the boy opening the door after shuffling across the floor. He’s still in his pajamas, eyes widening when he realizes that Seonghwa and his family have already arrived.

Mrs. Kim scowls at her son. “I told you to change ten minutes ago, Kim Hongjoong.” Hongjoong looks at his mother meekly, apologizing with his expression. “Get changed. Tell Seonghwa to come in when you’re done.” Mr. Park pats his son on the shoulder and heads towards the wine room, where Mr. Kim is probably watching football with a crate of beer at his feet. The two women speed-walk towards Mrs. Kim’s room to converse some more.

Seonghwa is left alone outside the mahogany door, waiting for Hongjoong to get changed. “Come on”, he mutters. He’s not been allowed to bring his phone with him, much to his annoyance. Seonghwa wanted to text San; he would know how to amuse him in this situation.

Hongjoong opens the door five minutes later, his red velvet suit slightly rumpled from how fast he put it on. “Well?”, the redhead asked. “Are you coming?” Seonghwa grimaced as he walked into Hongjoong’s large room. He quickly took in the newest additions to Hongjoong’s room: a gaming chair, a different duvet from the last time he visited, a new dog plushie on the window seat. 

Seonghwa sits down on the seat that he always sits at when he visits. He watches blankly as Hongjoong fumbles with his keyboard, playing a tune that’s all too familiar to Seonghwa. “Really?”, Seonghwa scoffs. “Isn’t that what I put on SoundCloud like, two months ago?”

Hongjoong rolls his eyes. “I like it. So what? It’s good.” Seonghwa smirks. “Aren’t you the music producer who goes around claiming that you make good music to everyone you meet?” Hongjoong flushes as red as his suit and hair, his eyebrows furrowing. “ _Stop_ it.”

_Oh, how the tables have_ **_turned_ ** , Seonghwa thinks. _It’s MY turn to make his life a living hell. Just for tonight._

“I’ll teach you if you want”, Seonghwa offers. “You look like you need some help.” Hongjoong’s expression immediately brightens, the furrow in his brows and the glint of hostility in his eyes gone. “You serious? Or are you pulling my tail?”

“Serious.” Seonghwa is surprised that the key to Hongjoong’s heart was, well, music. Sure, Hongjoong’s always liked music, but Seonghwa has never known that the redheaded nightmare was so, well, obedient and passionate when it came to music. Seonghwa slides over to sit next to Hongjoong, gently prying Hongjoong’s fingers from the keyboard. “You need to learn how to not clip the audio”, he instructs, after Hongjoong plays him a part of what he’s just put together. “It doesn’t sound bad, but the song’s just repeating itself over and over again. Try adding some beat drops. In general, your music needs more diversity.”

Hongjoong nods attentively, pulling out a notebook and taking notes. No, Seonghwa thinks. Kim fucking Hongjoong, taking NOTES? 

Hongjoong plugs in the MIDI piano keyboard, opening up a music-creating platform. Seonghwa swears that he nearly _FAINTS_ when he sees what Hongjoong is using; god damn _GARAGEBAND_. “Hongjoong. We need to get you something better than Garageband”, he sighs, rubbing at his temples. It was going to be a long night, and they still hadn’t had the dinner party yet.

The redhead shakes his head. “I can’t. If I use my credit card, my parents will be notified, and they’ll see what I bought. I can’t. They ripped up my rap lyrics when they found them; that’s why I’ve been using ‘damn Garageband’”, Hongjoong states rather miserably.

Seonghwa is rather taken aback. He’s always thought that Hongjoong’s parents spoiled him rotten; ever since they were kids, Hongjoong’s always gotten whatever he wants. “I want that toy car!”, he’d yell, and the next second, the damn brat would be playing with it, his eyes already wandering to find something else.

“Why would they disapprove? Did you use explicit words?” Hongjoong shakes his head again. “No. Apparently, rap is a ‘slippery slope to delinquincy’”, he air quoted. “I was devastated. My lyrics; I took months to write that song. I’ve got a spare copy on my laptop but it’s… different. I didn’t dare write on paper again after that.”

No wonder why the sticky notes that would usually be littering Hongjoong’s desk had disappeared this time. 

“Well...I can get it for you”, Seonghwa mumbled softly. Hongjoong’s eyes lit up. “For real, hyung?”

“Hyung?!”, Seonghwa exclaimed. “What the hell?”

“You’re older than me”, Hongjoong said, in his defense. Seonghwa sighed. “I’ll get it for you, budge over.”

Half an hour later, Seonghwa was teaching Hongjoong how to properly use a music application. “Ask your parents for a speaker or an amplifier”, Seonghwa ordered. “If they refuse, text me.” They had exchanged numbers the last time they met, on their parent’s insistence. 

“Thank you”, Hongjoong suddenly blurted. “For helping me, even if I’ve been nothing but an asshole to you.” Seonghwa shook his head. “It’s fine. I don’t mind much. Just...are we friends?” Hongjoong nodded furiously. “We are. Would you like to sleep over?”

Mrs. Kim and Mrs. Park were both surprised to hear Seonghwa asking to sleep over at Kim Manor at the dinner party. Not that Mrs. Park minded; she’d get to have some _private time_ with her husband. “Of course, Seonghwa”, Mrs. Kim answered. 

The dinner party wasn’t as awkward as it usually was, as the tension in the air between the two heirs of the family fortunes had finally been cleared. In fact, the two of them were engaging in a rather hushed conversation about favourite artists and other things, to the delight of Mr. Park and Mr. Kim.

“So, Hongjoong”, Mrs. Park asked, delicately slicing her steak. “What university are you planning to go to?” Hongjoong blanked out for a second before quickly regaining posture. “The National Arts Academy.” _Clever_ , Seonghwa thought. _The National Arts Academy was a prestigious school, well-known for their visual arts program over the musical department_. “Me too”, Seonghwa clarified.

The parents (well, the mothers) looked slightly shocked but covered it well. “Ah, but you still have many more years to think about this. Are you sure?”

“Positive”, the two boys chorused.

~

Three years later, they found themselves receiving and opening their letters of acceptance, together. The two of them had recently applied for college, and Seonghwa was calling Hongjoong as he ran to the latter’s house. “It’s here. I don’t know if it’s good news or not”, Seonghwa screeched into the phone enthusiastically. 

Fifteen minutes later, Seonghwa was ripping his letter open with Hongjoong at his side in the coffee room.

“What’s it say? What’s yours say?”, Hongjoong yelled. He had just seen his, and his eyes were glistening with happy tears. “Tell me, Park Seonghwa!”

Wordlessly, the dark-haired male showed Hongjoong his letter.

“Dear Park Seonghwa, it is our pleasure to tell you that you have been ACCEPTED!”, Hongjoong screamed, pulling Seonghwa into a hug. The slightly older male was taken aback at the sudden physical contact, but he reminded himself that this was his boyfriend of two months. His secret boyfriend, in fact.

“We did it”, he mumbled quietly, kissing Hongjoong gently on the cheek.

“We really made it.”

They had. Fifty more dinner parties, two-hundred-and-fifty-three more sleepovers, a hundred music sessions in Hongjoong’s (well, they went to Seonghwa’s occasionally) room. A month of not seeing each other as Hongjoong was grounded for writing his lyrics, a week of studying together to get into the college. One kiss later, and they had finally, finally made it. From enemies to friends to lovers.

It sounded cliche, it really did. But did Seonghwa care?

No. It was their love story. And it started with a dinner party, velvet suits, and Garageband.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope that you enjoyed this! The original prompt was "We hate each other but our parents don't know and we always have to go to dinner parties together".


End file.
